Some Remain So
by TechnicolourGrey
Summary: Bellatrix Black has always been a little strange. But she isn't insane. She isn't. Am I? Rodolphus\Bellatrix\Voldemort, M for language, smut, possible violence.
1. Prologue

**Name: Some Remain So**

**Author: TechnicolourGrey**

**Rating: M – swearing, no doubt there will be violence and smut.**

**Disclaimer: I understand and acknowledge that J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury and WB own everything. This is not for commercial or money-making purposes. I just wish I _do_ own it.**

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><p><strong>For the inspiration for this fic, I have to thank (or blame, I'm not sure yet) FanFicFan99, who suggested a story about Bellatrix and Voldemort. The idea has consequently haunted me for a fairly long time, and this is the result. I suppose this is something new, a little experimental, from me.<strong>

**I hope you enjoy.~**

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><p><em>We are all born mad.<em>

_Some remain so._

- Samuel Beckett

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><p>"I hate to say it – I know she's my wife's sister – but I always thought there was something a little strange about her."<p>

The listener laughed bitterly, breathing out a plume of acrid smoke and running a hand through his dark, damp hair. He allowed his arm to fall onto the appropriate rest of the chair, cigar held loosely between his fingers. "Yeah, me too. Even when we first met."

The first speaker let out a soft, "Hm," of acknowledgement, swirling his glass of firewhiskey languidly in his hand.

Rain lashed against the windows of Malfoy manor from behind the thick scarlet curtains. Violent gusts of wind struck the panes like a leaping viper, demanding entrance and howling when it was not bidden. A quiet rumble of thunder burbled in the distance, the promise of an encroaching storm, prowling towards the grand house with all of its fury.

However, the two men and one cat sitting – or sprawling – in the comfort of the drawing room inside Malfoy manor paid no heed to the tempest raging outside. A fire was burning in the open hearth, blazing bright blue for an especially warming sensation which was appreciated by the shivering man sitting nearest to it, and for the cat which was stretched out on the Persian rug in front of the hearth, taking advantage of the blissful heat. Still wet, the man leant closer to the flames, raising the cigar to his lips again to take another deep drag.

The other and considerably drier human, the master of the house, whose own cigar seemed to be forgotten in his fingers, raised his head. With watchful eyes he surveyed the face covered by dark hair wetted to his cheeks, who was leaning still closer to the fire.

"It was in school, am I correct? If I recall, it was actually when she set your trousers on fire in transfiguration during the first lesson," the blond pondered, brow furrowing as he tried to cast his mind back far enough to possibly envisage said transfiguration lesson.

The other man's eyebrows rose, almost becoming consumed by the mop of curly dark hair which leaked over his forehead. Though his eyes remained drawn and dark a smile twitched at the man's lips, clearly remembering the incident as a particularly funny one. "You still livin' under a rock, Lucius? No, you dolt. I first met her at a garden party."

Lucius' brow furrowed. "Well, I am quite sorry that I don't remember your entire life, Rodolphus."

"Well, p'r'aps you should," the man retorted, though his usual playful tone had returned to his voice, "You're practically my secretary, after all."

"I will call you an acquaintance in public, and maybe stretch to close companion in private, but I shall never be your personal assistant, Rodolphus," Lucius replied, though his lips too had began to twitch with the hint of a smirk.

"Ah ah ah, that's Mr. Lestrange to you. And get me a pumpkin juice, wouldja, Luci?"

"If I had a wand on me you'd be cursed straight out my house by now."

Rodolphus snorted. "Is that how you treat guests lookin' for your help?"

"It is how I treat guests who stand outside my house in the pouring rain at some ungodly hour," Lucius sighed, "You could have at least given me more warning, you know. Then I may look at least a little more respectable."

"It's fine," grinned Rodolphus, "I think you look rather fetching in your dressing gown and slippers."

Lucius stared hard at him. "Oh, how I wish I had picked up my wand on the way down here."

Rodolphus laughed humourlessly, and a just as mirthless expression returned to his face. "Yeah, well," he murmured, staring wistfully into the fire, "I haven't got nowhere else to go, have I? Rabastan wouldn't understand." He met Lucius' eyes and knew that the look in his face, the tone in his voice, was one of desperation which he couldn't fight. "I'm sorry I woke you so early, Lucius, and I'm sorry I woke Narcissa, but… I just need a night away from home." He paused. "Away from _her._" He sighed, leant forwards in the chair and buried his head in his hands.

Lucius watched Rodolpuhs for a few seconds, not quite knowing what to do. Awkwardly, he began with, "You must be mad, Rodolphus. To wake Narcissa up would take a lot more than hammering on the door in the middle of the night." When the reply was only a grunt, he snapped his fingers, being rewarded with a similar _crack _as the house-elf apparated instantly in front of him.

"Y-yes, Master?" it squeaked, teetering on the spot, eyes wide and bloodshot from the lack of sleep.

"Dobby, get Mr. Lestrange a drink. Something strong, from the cellar, I think."

The house-elf nodded and, with a snap, disapparated. Before anything else could be said between the two men, it reappeared with a large bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses clutched in its tiny hands. It set them down on the floor and, with a single finger, guided the cork from the bottle and poured a tiny amount of the whiskey into one glass, offering it up to Lucius.

Boredly, Lucius set the half-full glass in his hand down on the dark mahogany of his desk and took the proffered drink. He raised it to his lips, taking a moment to consider the strong, dark liquid. A moment passed before he curtly nodded his approval, and the house-elf took to guiding the bottle to fill the two glasses.

"Cheers, Lucius," Rodolphus murmured sullenly, taking the drink offered by the house-elf when it tapped the glass against his fingers. He straightened up in the chair, sinking back into the leather and placing the cigar back in his mouth where it remained, clenched between his teeth.

"Mm," the master of the house nodded, waving his hand holding his own abandoned cigar once and raising the full glass to his lips. He took in a long gulp, swallowed hard and took in a deep breath. "Leave us, Dobby," he ordered, waiting for the usual _crack_ before leaning towards Rodolphus. "So, what's going on, hm? You've already said that she's acting strangely, but you have neglected to mention how."

Rodolphus cast Lucius a mirthless smile. "You already know, Lucius. We both know. And we've always known it'd happen."

Lucius kept his gaze even, betraying nothing. "I'm afraid I'm unsure what you mean."

"It's _him, _Lucius," was the simple reply.

The blond's brow furrowed. He raised his head and glanced over his shoulder, as though to make sure no one was listening. Upon finding the drawing room deserted, empty save for the sound of pounding rain upon the windows, Lucius returned his attention to Rodolphus. "Who?" he inquired levelly, quite clearly feigning ignorance, for he already knew the answer.

"_Him,_" replied Rodolphus impatiently, pulling the left sleeve of his robes up to the elbow. The Dark Mark seared boldly against the man's pale skin, which once seemed fairly tanned when he was standing next to Lucius Malfoy.

The blond deduced that his arms had not seen sunlight for a fair few years.

"What of him?" Lucius asked softly. He kept his head raised and his teeth gritted, as though warning Rodolphus to watch his tongue.

He, however, didn't seem to pick up the signal: "He's made her change. He's taken her over. He's sent her insane, Lucius. He's finally made her mad, and I don't know how to get her back, and I ha-"

"Rodolphus, stop," Lucius interrupted sharply, raising a hand to silence him. "You know that everything is heard by the Dark Lord. Somehow."

"I _want _him to hear, Lucius," snapped the dark-haired man, irritably shoving his sleeve back down and returning his cigar between his fingers, "I want him to take this _curse _off of her!" Seemingly unable to utter anymore, Rodolphus slumped back into the chair and resumed looking exhausted and withdrawn, his dark eyes set in staring at a shard of wood in the fireplace. "I never wanted this, Lucius."

Silence descended upon the two men. The dark-furred Chartreux cat, having woken up at Rodolphus' raised voice, leisurely rolled onto its front and stood up, purring and approaching Rodolphus' lap expectantly. Before the man could even compose himself the cat had leapt up and was quite busy clawing his legs into a more comfortable bed.

"Hey, Helios," Rodolphus murmured, his lips twitching as he stroked behind the cat's ear, earning a throaty purr in response.

"That infernal cat," Lucius muttered, though with more fondness than he would ever dare admit to himself, "Doesn't go anywhere where Narcissa cannot be found, unless there is the promise of attention."

"I know someone else like that," Rodolphus whispered down to the cat.

A pause. "What was that?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing."

For a few moments both men seemed entranced as Helios stretched and turned a full circle on Rodolphus' lap, finally coming to a stop and curling up into a tight, purring ball. "I miss him from school," Rodolphus admitted sheepishly, motioning down to the mass of fur, "Teachin' him to fetch butterbeer corks and bring them back. Keepin' him down in the common room while you and Cissa went and… Well, yes." He averted his gaze at Lucius' expression. "They were good times, y'know. Easy times."

A small smile crossed Lucius' face. "Indeed they were." He sighed, finally raised his cigar to his mouth and breathed in deeply. "Indeed they were," he repeated, before breathing out. "I must say the time in which you put itching power on Slughorn's crystallised pineapple was quite a highlight."

Rodolphus snorted with mirth, but it had soon once again disappeared. "Yeah," he agreed, smiling wistfully. He stared down into the dark liquid in his hand, swirling it around absently. With a sigh, he brought it to his lips and tilted his head back, allowing the whiskey to rush into his throat. Within three gulps, he had drained the glass; he raised his head and gasped, wincing at the burning at the back of his mouth.

"I did say it was something strong," Lucius muttered, rolling his eyes and motioning to the bottle left on the floor by the house-elf. "Do help yourself to more, won't you?"

"Ta," Rodolphus spluttered, earning a reproachful glare from the cat upon his lap.

Another awkward silence set in between the two men, save for the cat purring upon Rodolphus' lap when it had finished hating the man for moving. They listened intently to the sound of the rain, thinking of whether to bring it up as a topic of conversation simply to avoid the deafening quiet between them. Neither did, however, and they settled into their own thoughts, staring into their empty glasses.

After a long while, Rodolphus was the first to speak: "It was at her family's place," he murmured wistfully, quietly.

Lucius' brow furrowed, but he remained quiet, waiting for the other to continue. When he didn't, Lucius inquired, "What are you talking about?"

"The place we first met," Rodolphus nodded, as though it was the most obvious thing, "A garden party at Grimmauld Place. I think it was to celebrate Cissa's birth. I remember Druella carryin' a baby around a lot, and I'm sure Dromeda was there, already. Oh, c'mon," he added, when Lucius bristled at the name, "Get over it. This was before everyone knew she was a blood traitor and all. Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was for Cissa."

Lucius frowned, taking in another breath of his cigar. "Neither you or Narcissa have ever told me that you were at the celebration of her birth."

"Well, she was literally a babe in arms, Luci," Rodolphus smirked, "If she remembers anything about it it's a miracle. And I didn't think it ever really mattered enough to bring it up in conversation. Mine and the Rosier family go back pretty far, so, y'know. But anyway, stop interrupting."

Struggling to keep as still as possible so not to disturb Helios, Rodolphus reached into his robes and pulled out his wand, pointing it at the bottle of whiskey on the floor. Carefully, he directed it to fill his glass as well as Lucius'.

"So, yeah," the dark-haired man continued after taking a smaller gulp from the refilled glass, "You know how dreary the house is, but the garden is alright, y'know, and they really spruced it up. Well, Druella did. There was a lot of Rosier there. Faeries everywhere, those little white flowers sprouting up around the garden, the works. I'm pretty sure ol' Cygnus wouldn't have wanted that, but then again I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have wanted it at all, huh?"

"No," Lucius agreed, "He always wanted a son. I'm sure if it was up to him he would have kept his third daughter a secret."

"Yeah, well, she wasn't no secret. Dressed up to the nines, she was. Looked like a bloody cloud. But yeah, that's where I first saw her. Bellatrix." He stared down into his firewhiskey, swallowing hard. "She was kneelin' down by the fish pond at the end of the garden. All on her own, she was. It was strange. Dromeda was running around screamin' for attention or rebellion or whatever it was, while she just stayed there, staring down into the pond. Everyone seemed to be ignorin' her. I thought then that she was a little bit strange, but I went over to talk to her anyway.

"'What're you doing?' I asked her. She didn't answer me for _ages_. Just stared up at me with these wide eyes. She looked the complete opposite to her sister even then, y'know. This black dress with no ruffles whatsoever. I think she was barefoot, too, but my I might be mistaken. I _was_ just about, what, four? But yeah, anyway, she eventually spoke, and told me that she was watching the fish. I looked down and couldn't see any fish." He smirked softly. "I'm pretty sure you can guess what happened. I lean down, looking for these fish, and she pushes me in. Doesn't even get up – just grabs the collar of my shirt and drags me down. No warning, nothing, just straight in. Absolutely soaking, I was. Had to sit near a fire, shivering, for the rest of the day."

Lucius smirked, shaking his head. "So this is not the first time you have been drenched because of Bellatrix Black. How interesting. And then you didn't see each other until Hogwarts?"

Rodolphus shook his head. "Nope. But I've never forgotten it. I always wanted to hate her for it, but…" He shrugged, lifting his hand holding his glass and twisting it to show Lucius his wedding band. "We all know what happened, huh?"

"Indeed. Strange how things turn out, is it not?"

"Yeah. Like, I never liked you, either. Thought you were a pretentious twat. Still think you are, t'be honest."

Lucius inclined his head, one side of his lips twitching. "As you remind me of all too often."

Again, Rodolphus smiled, but it was short lived. "It's changed now though, Lucius. She's not just strange. She's insane. Actually insane."

Lucius took in a deep breath, stubbed out his cigar and rested it on the edge of his desk. He took a gulp from his glass, and nodded. "Tell me how, Rodolphus. Tell me everything."

Rodolphus breathed out a humourless laugh. "It'll take a while."

"I have all night."

Rodolphus considered this. He nodded slowly, stubbing out his own cigar and leaving it on the arm of his chair, using his free hand to meditatively stroke Helios, from head to tail. "Alright," he conceded. "Alright. I guess I should begin where it all started, huh?"

"It's a good place to begin, indeed."

Once again, Rodolphus nodded. He took a deep breath.


	2. Chapter 1

**Wow, for everyone who has shown an interest in this fic, and especially those who have left reviews, thank you so much. Sorry it's taking so long, but college and lack of muse are getting in the way. I hope you can be patient and, as always, I hope you enjoy.~**

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><p>"<em>Okay, well. I don't know the exact date, but I remember it was just a few days before we left school. So that would be, what, July in '68?"…<em>

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><p>The quaint village of Hogsmeade slept soundly.<p>

Every house slumbered peacefully, curtains drawn, rooms dark, chimneys smokeless. The breath of each unconscious occupant, the mutters of people deep in sleep, resounded through the houses, making it seem like the picturesque brick constructions were snoozing with them. The windows of most houses were thrown open, inviting a breeze which would be welcomed to saunter through the close July humidity and caress the sweat from their bodies. The sky, should anyone care to awaken and cast it a glance, was completely cloudless, moonlight flowing down like ripples of silk and exaggerating the soft curves of the houses and winding, cobbled streets.

In fact, all was so still and silent that the only signs of life in the little settlement at all was a black cat sniffing a discarded Honeydukes wrapper; the village drunkard, Albert Spickolt, staggering around outside the Three Broomsticks singing about Madam Rosmerta and pork pies; and a kettle in the alley behind Dervish and Banges which couldn't stop whistling.

However, all was not as it seemed, in the subdued little village, for, where the moonlight could not reach, people were very much awake.

A steady line of people, completely unbeknownst to the occupants of Hogsmeade, were making their way through the winding back alleys of the village. Should any one of the residents have gazed out of their windows and straight down into said alleys, they would have still had a problem sighting the people, despite the number of them; at least eight or nine figures, shrouded in hooded black cloaks moved swiftly through the dank darkness, being careful not to tread on anything unsavoury.

The congregation was silent, save for the muffled footfalls and laboured breathing as they kept up a swift pace in the heavy air. They were subdued, but not in the same way as the village around them. They were tense, the air in the alleys thick with something other than the humidity. They were expectant.

Something was going to happen.

"Why're we doin' this again?" whispered a voice near the back of the line of people.

It was met with a series of hisses, indication for the speaker to keep quiet.

"This could be our chance, Lestrange," another voice snapped, still in the same hiss, "You've heard what he's capable of."

"Well, yeah, who hasn't?" Rodolphus whispered back, "But what I'm saying, Nott, is why-"

"Shut _up_, Rodolphus," interjected another voice, feminine but deep and full of abhorrence, directly in front of the Lestrange.

"But I just think that-"

"Shut _up._"

"But-"

The feminine speaker stopped dead in the alley, causing Rodolphus to collide with her. Two more muffled thumps indicated that the people behind had run straight into him. For a moment there was only the sound of scuffling in the darkness, then a cry of pain which was too pathetic to be from the woman, followed by complete silence save for heavy, angry breaths.

For a good few moments, no one else moved. Then, there was the soft rustling as someone reached into their robes, pulled out their wand and whispered, "_Lumos_."

The alleyway became immediately illuminated. A nearby rat, startled by the sudden light, screeched and scuttled away. The wielder of the wand, looking considerably more distasted, lowered it slightly, so not to distract any attention.

Three figures were sprawled on the floor of the alley: Rodolphus was lying, crumpled, with his back against the wall, wincing as he held his arm; the other two were writhing around over each other, trying to co-ordinate themselves enough to navigate their way upright.

The former's hood had fallen down, revealing that his cheeks were red from embarrassment in the wandlight. The figure, looming over him, took in a deep shuddering breath.

_One… Two… Three…_

Grasping the hood of her cloak, Bellatrix Black pushed it back. Her dark hair fell about her face, tousled from the frantic pace and the hood rubbing against the curly locks. The paleness which came with being a Black daughter was exaggerated in the dark alleyway, for she seemed to glow in the luminescence of Lucius' wand. Her expression was set into one of patience, but her eyes were still alive with anger.

Again, Bellatrix took a deep breath to calm herself. "Look," she hissed, clearly trying to keep her voice level, "We all know why we are here, Rodolphus. Just shut up or we'll be late. Can you handle that?"

"I was just gonna say," Rodolphus implored, voice lowering when Bellatrix's hands formed fists. "I-I mean," he continued, much more meekly, "Why couldn't we've taken the high road. There's only old Spicky out there, and no one would've-"

"Shut up, wouldja, Doll Face?" a mocking voice interjected, "If yer can't handle a bit o' the dark yer shouldn't even be out here. Go back and play with yer cat."

Again, Bellatrix felt the familiar prickle of anger well up inside her. She fought it back down, even when Rodolphus blushed a darker shade of puce, the tips of his ears becoming heated.

"Crabbe, Goyle, Rodolphus, would you just _come on_?" she demanded harshly. "And you too, Dolohov," she added to the owner of the mocking demeanour. She gripped her hood and pulled it back up, turning from the thing she begrudgingly called her boyfriend and storming to the front of the group. From behind her, she heard more rustling as someone – she would hazard a guess at Lucius – helped up the fallen men. There was a soft mutter of, "_Nox._" Again, the alley was plunged into darkness, but Bellatrix didn't care. She knew where she was going.

She sped up the pace, conscious of the time. Her breaths caught in her throat as she moved, cursing softly as she stepped in puddles left from a downpour a few days previously; it seemed no sunlight could infiltrate the dank alleyways, either. She lost count of the amount that she had stepped in, for she was too busy counting to stop her anger bubbling over the edge.

She had heard such things about him. She could not turn down such an opportunity. And she could not be late.

_I have waited long enough for this. All of my family has._

It was only when she calmed down again, passing behind Baby Witch, that Bellatrix felt any sort of regret for having hurt Rodolphus. She knew quite well that she hit him too much, that he didn't always deserve it, and that he was alright really. That didn't stop her from having a short temper and him from being irritating, though.

She quietly sighed. She would have to apologise to him later.

_I'll knit him a hat to make up for it._

As they came closer to their destination, the alleys widened out and some natural light managed to drip onto their faces. Bellatrix lowered her head and pulled her hood further over her face, so that she was shrouded in shadow. They could not afford to be caught now, not after they had gotten so far.

"Here," she whispered softly, when the building was in sight in front of them. "Hurry up."

The group broke into a slow jog towards the dilapidated excuse for a building, more just a wooden frame in which the dregs of society congregated to avoid human interaction. A sign creaked above the door, even though there wasn't any hint of a breeze. The severed boar's head seemed almost inviting after the dreary alleys.

"Quick, get in," she hissed to the rest of the group. She looked around quickly, over her shoulder and down the high street to make sure they were not being watched. She could see no hint of a soul, other than those running towards her. The two beefiest and bulkiest boys filling out their cloaks tripped over their feet numerous times, but they were making an effort, so she was satisfied.

Bellatrix took in a deep breath, took hold of the door handle.

_Here we go._

She pushed the door of the pub open and quickly stepped into the squalid establishment.

Though The Hog's Head was nothing new to her, for she had managed to drink Rodolphus to the floor numerous times before, she was still instantly hit with the pungent smell of cigarette smoke, alcohol, sweat and damp, mingled into one horrific concoction. The unpleasant feeling of raw, hard ground clung to her shoes. It was as badly lit as outside, the only light sources being a miniscule ray of moonlight filtering in through the grime on the windows and the flickering candles on the tables. She squinted, but didn't need to look far for what she desired.

A small crowd of people had seated themselves around one tiny table in the corner, hunched forwards to better listen to the speaker. As soon as the door had opened, they had fallen deathly silent and had all turned in their seats to stare at the newcomers with apprehension. Though a few had pulled up their hoods at the sound of others entering the pub, Bellatrix recognised them all as being in her house, but didn't know them personally; she did not make a habit with fraternising with people not worth her time. She noticed none of them had drinks.

"Well well," drawled a silky voice from the direction in which every student already sitting was facing. "What have we here, then?" It was smooth and cool, with an undeniable power behind the polished tongue.

Intrigued, Bellatrix moved forwards, but the speaker was shrouded in shadow, and she could barely make out a figure, let alone a face. The rest of the group spilled into the tiny pub, causing an angry stare from what looked like a hag over in the corner, but Bellatrix ignored her completely.

The door softly closed shut.

"Come now, be civil," continued the bodiless voice, "Put your hoods down so I can see you."

There was a long pause, in which no one moved. Even the bartender had stopped cleaning a dirty glass with an even dirtier cloth to watch the gathering of people with some degree of interest. Then, Bellatrix raised her hands to her hood. She held it. Took in a breath. And lowered it.

There was the sound of shuffling all around her as the rest of her group followed suit, cautiously. The people at the table who had raised their cloaks lowered them again, still looking uneasy.

"'Ere, Abby, anovva – _harch harch –_ firewhiskey, if ya don' mind," slurred a man at the bar as he coughed out a plume of smoke, clearly not noticing the congregation behind him having even entered the pub.

While the bartender irritably threw down his cloth and busied himself in making the specified drink for his regular, a pale hand came into the light of the candle on the table and beckoned the newcomers forwards.

Cautiously, narrowing her eyes, Bellatrix moved forwards to stand directly behind the rest of the group. She felt Rodolphus move to her side, his hand almost touching hers. She flashed him a glance, but it did not linger.

"Well, now we have more company," hissed the voice, quietly, as though it did not want to be overheard, "I suppose I should begin again." The hand disappeared, and a great breath was drawn in. "I, as you may have heard, am Lord Voldemort. No doubt you have heard of things I have done – such _heinous acts_ I have committed – from the _Daily Prophet, _and the Muggle-loving old fool you know as Albus Dumbledore. But may I assure you now, if you have any misconceptions that I am not as powerful as the media believes me to be: it is all true. All of it."

The voice paused, as though waiting for a reaction. When there was none, it continued.

"I imagine some of you are here purely because you are curious. Curious of why I have done the things I have. Curious to know what I can do for you, and why you should even join me in the first place. However, I do hope that the vast majority of you believe in me already. Me and my cause. My aims. I hope that you will fight beside me, for the greater good."

Again, there was perfect silence. It was as though no one in the crowd was even breathing, air held behind clenched teeth in fear that they would not be able to hear the rest of the voice's words over their exhalation. In the background the man at the bar was talking animatedly to the bartender, but no one cared enough to even consider it.

"Mudbloods should not be allowed near anyone of Wizarding heritage. Nobody. I shall not believe in _correctness_ here, nor shall I believe in covering the truth with sugar. Any self-respecting Slytherin who has been brought up correctly will share my view: I wish to eradicate them all, and to also eliminate Muggles, Squibs and blood traitors in the process. They do not deserve to hold a wand. They do not deserve life. I believe in a… Cleansed world. A world where blood is pure, and kept pure. We cannot have the scum of Muggle-kind contaminating it. My cause – _our _cause – is the salvation of the Wizarding world. We shall protect it from this threat. This encroaching plague which threatens to consume us all." The voice stopped. There was a shrill, mocking noise which Bellatrix was sure was a laugh, but it was without any mirth. It didn't fit the voice.

It made her uneasy.

"However, I am no fool. I realise that I am but one man, and thus I cannot achieve this all alone. I realise I need the help of faithful servants, loyal subjects, who will assist me in winning this battle. Slaying this beast once and for all. And the rewards, I promise," – He held his hand once again over the dying flame of the candle. – "will be great." Before their eyes, his hand filled with galleons, with jewels and riches. A few people shifted as they watched, transfixed, desperate to reach out and grab the coins straight from his hand.

Bellatrix, however, was not interested in the riches. The only thing she was truly interested in was the gentle but definite pulse of energy which radiated from the slender, white hand. It held the same subtle but undeniable power as his voice, the hint of a threat lurking somewhere behind that charm, in the depths where only Bellatrix Black would begin to explore. He was dangerous, and she knew it.

She moved closer, eyes wide with intrigue now.

"And so, my friends. I must request your service, as so many others like yourselves have pledged to do."

There was a pause. Then: "Like who?" came a gruff bark of a voice.

Everyone's head turned to gaze at the boy who had spoken, as though barely believing that he had. Then, their heads turned in unison back to the hand. The fingers twisted in a graceful arch – the coins disappeared into nothingness, and the hand was withdrawn from the light.

"Like a certain father of one of you here who informed me that there were students who were interested in joining my cause," he replied evenly, unperturbed by the unwarranted question.

Behind her, Bellatrix heard Nott clear his throat, and would bet Grimmauld Place that he was wearing a supremely smug smirk.

"True, you are not as experienced as my present followers," continued the voice, regardless, "You are not as strong, nor clever, but you are all in your last year, are you not?" Everyone remained silent. "I should hope so. It is what I requested of you. I am not being the guardian of children. You shall be leaving the restriction of Hogwarts in a few days, into a world you cannot hope to know. But you can be something great. All of you. And I can help you. Much more so than Albus Dumbledore. I can show you things you have never dreamt of. I can teach you things you have never dared to consider. I can make you become things you never thought you had the ability to. All you have to do is join me.

"Of course, I cannot have you all simply running off tonight. I am quite accustomed to the ways of Slytherins, and I know that you are too cunning. One of you will tell someone of my visit here tonight. However, I do not find this a problem. On the contrary, I value this quality quite highly in myself. But, to be on the safe side, I will need you all to sign this." The hand reached down and presented a long sheet of parchment with a black quill, which it placed next to the stuttering candle. Bellatrix noticed that the wrist was covered with robes which looked a lot more like school robes than normal ones. It struck her as odd, but she did not dwell on it. "I wouldn't want you running off and telling Albus about this, would I? And believe me. I will _know _if you do."

Nobody moved. Still, nobody dared to breathe.

The voice seemed somewhat amused by this, for there was a note of entertainment when it said, "Well?"

The only movement was a few people shifting uncomfortably. Bellatrix couldn't take the tenseness anymore. She took in a deep breath through her nose, raised her head high. "Come into the light. Let us see you." It was barely a request.

Tribulation gripped her gut as every student turned to stare, horrified, at her. They clearly couldn't dare to believe what she had just said, or the tone in which she had said it. The atmosphere fizzled with nervousness to add to the tension. She couldn't have taken it in even if she wasn't holding her breath.

The one who called himself Lord Voldemort, however, remained quite silent for a few moments. Then, slowly, very slowly, there was the sound of a chair creaking as he leant forwards.

Bellatrix found herself bitterly disappointed.

The speaker, Lord Voldemort, the one they had all snuck out of school and scurried like rats to the Hog's Head to see, was nothing but a boy. _Well, _she considered, _Maybe a man, but he still looks young enough to be a boy._

He looked around twenty, thirty, but still young enough to pass in the corridors of Hogwarts. There was something strange about him, which Bellatrix couldn't quite put her finger on. His skin was pale, almost more so than hers, and his hair a dark and unremarkable brown. His eyes were likewise, but keen and observant. They flicked from one student to another in quick succession, judging each of their reactions in turn. They eventually came to rest upon Bellatrix.

Something else seemed to grip her gut, tight in her stomach. She had seen the look he bestowed upon her before, somewhere else, though she couldn't quite recall where from. They were eyes of gentle curiosity, but within the depths she saw the hint of a threat. She saw the darkness. Just like his voice.

"What is your name?" he inquired softly, so softly she almost didn't hear.

Bellatrix held her head higher. His stare was unnerving her. She felt like a chastised child. "Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Bellatrix Black."

He considered this for a moment, nodding meditatively. "Hm. How interesting."

Bellatrix felt a trickle of annoyance drip down her back, and bristled. "What is?" she demanded.

She ignored Rodolphus as he elbowed her in the side, trying to be subtle. "Bella," he hissed, "Stop it."

Both Voldemort and Bellatrix ignored him: "Your father is Cygnus." It wasn't a question.

She paused. Now she recognised the look. It was the look in her father's eyes when he was interested in her. Exactly the same stare of curiosity. The eyes of the man sitting before her were even the same colour. It was the look she had tried for her entire childhood to obtain. She swallowed, hard. "Yes."

"Hm." He nodded again and pulled away from the flame of the candle, returning to the darkness.

The vast amount of people were still staring at Bellatrix, mouths agape as though awestruck. It was only when Voldemort spoke again that they were pulled back down to Earth, and started at the sudden sound.

"Yes, sign this," he clarified, motioning his hand, now the only part of him visible again, towards the parchment, "The quill has been charmed. Anyone not of pure blood will be unable to sign. Though of course, even the Sorting Hat has not become so withered and imbecilic that it would let half- and Mudbloods into our mighty house." He laughed. Again, it was the high, lilting, and somewhat unearthly laugh. A few tittered nervously with him.

Cautiously, the nearest person to the parchment picked up the quill. Bellatrix recognised him as the shy boy who sat at the back of her Transfiguration class. He stared at it with apprehension before lowering the inkless tip to the parchment. Everyone eagerly watched as he wrote his name, which glowed bright red, before fading into the dark colour of ink.

He breathed out a sigh of relief.

In turn, the quill and parchment was passed around the congregation. They nodded at one another and exited in the small groups they had snuck to Hogsmeade in, so not to attract to much attention by all fleeing at once through the village to the castle. Bellatrix's group were the last to sign the paper, and she did so hurriedly.

"Hey, d'you think we have time for a quick one?" Rodolphus murmured to the woman, shrugging one shoulder and motioning his head to the bar.

"No," Bellatrix snapped, thrusting the parchment at him, "Sign and we'll go. _Now._"

She could still feel the eyes of Lord Voldemort upon her, with that very same stare.

She needed to get away.

* * *

><p>"<em>Mirabilis,<em>" Bellatrix heard Nott declare to the portrait of the snake which guarded the Slytherin common room. It spat and writhed, clearly unhappy at being made to move so early in the morning, but moved its frame forwards to allow them entry anyway.

"Finally," came an irritated voice, as soon as Bellatrix had followed the group through the portrait hall.

She lowered her hood and raised an ample eyebrow at the speaker.

Her youngest sister sat with her arms folded on a sofa by the fire, dark-eyed and lips set into a pout. She was dressed in a silk night gown, her hair more dishevelled than usual, with a copy of _Witch Weekly _on her lap. Clearly she had been forcing herself awake. Her eyes flicked accusingly from Bellatrix to Lucius. "Where have you all been?"

"Isn't it past your bedtime, Cissy?" Bellatrix sighed.

Narcissa opened her mouth to protest but was interrupted at just the right moment by Andromeda, who was sitting next to the youngest Black. She closed her Astronomy book and fixed her older sister a hard stare. "We thought you'd gone 'n' got yourselves lost or somethin'."

"Of course we didn't," Lucius muttered, removing his cloak and setting it on the arm of the sofa on which Narcissa was sitting. Precariously, he sat on top of it, looking down at her.

She tightened her arms and refused to look at him.

Helios, quite unaware of the tension in the air between the students, stood up from his curled position at Narcissa's feet and stretched. Blearily, and without much co-ordination, he meandered towards Rodolphus. He butted Rodolphus' ankle gently with his head before finding everything a bit too much like hard work; he keeled over, stretching out at Rodolphus' feet, looking up at the man expectantly.

"Hey, Helios," Rodolphus smiled. He knelt down and, as always, gave the cat all the attention it was vying for.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "So, how was it?" she demanded haughtily, "What happened?"

"It was… strange," Lucius answered softly, with a slight shrug.

"Yeah. Voldemort's a weird one, alright. I was expecting something different, y'know," Nott contributed, pointing his wand at the hearth and reigniting the dying embers. He pulled an armchair closer to the fire and seated himself in it, showing the palms of his hands to the flames.

"Nott, whaddya think yer doin'?" Dolohov sneered, "S'the middle of bloody July."

"It's cold," shrugged Nott unconcernedly, rubbing his hands together.

Lost inside their robes and struggling to get out of them, Crabbe and Goyle grunted in agreement.

"Well, I fink we were all expectin' summat different," Greengrass agreed, stretching his arms above his head. "'E was more like a kid than anyfin'."

"I wonder what he's gonna do with our names," Nott mused aloud, looking around from the fire to receive shrugs from the others.

Bellatrix looked down towards her shoes. She scowled. "Whatever he's going to do, I don't like it."

"Yeah." The boy nodded. "It's a little weird."

Narcissa, who had been waiting patiently for some kind of answer to her question and not yet picked one up from the conversation, looked around at the older students, confused. "What? What happened? I want to know!"

Bellatrix felt a prickle of anger fizzle up her spine. _Typical she can't just not know something for once._

"Well, see, Cissa," Rodolphus began, looking up from rubbing the stomach of a purring Helios to answer her, "What happened was-"

"Rodolphus, shut up," Bellatrix snapped, "Remember that parchment we signed?"

Dumbly, Rodolphus considered this. Then nodded.

"If we tell anyone, there'll be consequences. I don't want to find out what they are," she muttered, folding her arms across her chest tightly.

"Oh. Yeah. Okay," Rodolphus murmured, still dumbly. He looked back down to the cat, busying himself with rubbing into the dark fur of his chest.

"But-!" Narcissa began again. She didn't get very far.

"Hush now, Narcissa," Lucius said gently. He reached out his hand to the back of her head, where he knew exactly how to calm her; his fingers found a sensitive spot behind her ear, and Narcissa's will seemed to crumble. She physically slumped, and her face relaxed into a small smile. "You'll know one day."

Bellatrix scowled and looked away. _Get off my sister. You don't deserve her. Get off her._

"Oh, Bella," Andromeda called out airily, completely ignoring her little sister also, "I looked after your knitting. Helios looked like he was after the wool." From the side of the sofa, Andromeda pulled out a bundle of wool, wrapped in which was a ball of the thick, soft string and two long needles.

With a nod of appreciation, Bellatrix took the bundle and pulled her wand out of her sleeve. She unravelled the little package and flicked her wand, guiding the needles to continue knitting the ball of wool into the vague shape of a jumper.

Conscious of everyone's eyes on her, Bellatrix concentrated solely on the needles. She guided them carefully, making sure they didn't drop a stitch. It was a good while before everyone had resumed looking at something other than her.

"You're mad, y'know," commented Nott, turning back to the fire. He pulled his sleeve up, checked his watch, and stretched. "Right, I'm off to bed."

"Yeah, me too," Dolohov agreed, stifling a yawn, "G'night Lucius, Doll Face."

"Don't make too much noise wankin' yourself to sleep, will you?" Rodolphus replied scornfully, though a smirk played around his mouth.

Dolohov held a hand behind his back as he ascended the stairs to the boys' dormitories and held his middle finger up to the Lestrange.

Rodolphus snorted and stroked Helios' head one last time, rising. "Comin' to bed, Luci?"

Scowling at the name, Lucius nodded. "I may aswell."

"Well, you two have fun with that," Narcissa remarked with a playful smile. "Come on, Helios," she added to the little black mound of fur on the ground, which rose and obediently trotted after her.

"Oi, are you not coming to bed with me?" Lucius inquired indignantly, to which he only received a kiss blown to him and Narcissa's lithe little form making its way up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

_No, she's not. Get away from her. You're just going to hurt her, you insufferable, elitist, good-for-nothing-_

"Are you comin', Bella?" Rodolphus questioned quietly.

Bellatrix, too consumed in her knitting, didn't answer. Rodolphus sighed and dragged an annoyed Lucius up the stairs to their room.

The amount of people in the common room gradually thinned, eventually emptied, and the fire began getting lower in the hearth once again. Bellatrix, however, didn't mind; she liked being on her own with the soft clicking of her knitting needles, the flashes of light as the slender metal caught a hint of flame. It was relaxing, therapeutic. Just what she needed with her notoriously short fuse.

She wasn't sure how long she had sat there for, just staring at the rhythmic movements of her needles, but the sounds of birds tweeting over the gentle lapping of the lake against the dungeon walls gave indication that it was far too early to be conscious. She was just about to stretch and yawn, make her way up to her own bed, when –

"You're not really gonna do it, are you?" came a voice somewhere to the right of her.

Bellatrix started and twisted in her armchair, looking up so fast she almost cricked her neck. "Andy!" she declared, "I thought you'd gone to bed."

Andromeda lifted her book as though giving reason to why she hadn't, and shook her head. "You're not really gonna join him, are you, Bella?" The younger Black shifted uncomfortably as she spoke. "I don't like the thought of it. I mean…it could be dangerous. I don't want anythin' happenin' to you…" She trailed off, finishing with a small, awkward shrug.

Bellatrix didn't answer. She stared up at Andromeda's face, gaunt in the dim firelight, and didn't even know herself. "Go to bed, Andy," she replied with, for she had come to the conclusion that it was the best response. She turned back around to face her knitting, only to see that she had dropped a stitch.

_Bollocks._

_Bloody sisters._


	3. Chapter 2

**Again, to my reviewers, especially my faithful ones, I give my humble thanks. I couldn't do this without you.**

**I hope you enjoy.~**

* * *

><p>A crow ruffled his feathers. He shifted restlessly, clawed feet gripping the telephone wire which stretched from the wooden pole in the middle of the avenue to house number 11. Quiet and watchful upon his precarious perch, he surveyed the silent street below, perfectly calm without the presence of humans milling about. The only sign of human life at all was the deep thud of music coming from a house around the corner, and numerous bin bags dotted along the street, awaiting collection when light began to tint the inky sky.<p>

The crow knew well the thick, oppressive air of an August night, and so also knew he didn't have much time of utter quiet before the humans rose from their roosts and began to tamper in his daily routine, and so he knew he had to act swiftly.

He leant down, lower to the wire, and spread his wings with a shriek. With a single flap he was airborne and rocketing down towards the street like the shadow of a bullet, landing gracefully on the pavement. He tilted his head.

He was right; the big bag he had been watching all night _did _have the most curious smell. He felt drawn to it, compelled to peck out its insides to see what treasures awaited within.

Cautious, the bird looked left. He looked right. Seeing nothing, he hopped forwards. Waited. Nothing. Hopped forwards again. Waited. Nothing. He hopped close enough to the bin bag to see his reflection in the black lining and, with a swift peck, cut through it like a blade through skin.

There was a moment of utter silence in the street. Then the harsh, squealing cry of something in pain echoed through the avenue, before quickly dying into nothingness.

Nothing stirred, except the bin bag.

In a house which no one on the street would have been able to see even if they were awake, a feminine white face framed by golden ringlets stared at the scene through the window of the house. On the sofa in front of the wide expanse of glass, she had the perfect vantage point to see the bin bag lunge at the bird and, a few moments later, spit out a number of feathers.

Sighing, Narcissa Black turned away from the window to sit properly on the sofa. "Father, the rubbish is eating things again," she informed the man beside her, stroking the cat on her lap.

The man groaned in exasperation. "Bloody thing," he growled, puffing out a plume of pumpkin-scented smoke from the short, black pipe clenched between his teeth.

The woman on the opposite settee to he looked most displeased, her brow furrowing and darkening her fair face. "Cygnus, language."

"Hm," he muttered, sucking in another breath of his pipe and releasing it, "Well, it happens every week, Druella. No wonder the Muggles are getting a bit suspicious, when there's always bones around the bloody thing."

"Then stop going to Borgin and Burkes for bags," Druella reasoned.

Bellatrix, who was sitting next to her mother, would have sighed in vexation had she been paying attention to the conversation.

"Well, if Kreacher does what he's meant to do there wouldn't be a need for them."

"I told yer he's gettin' too old, the bloody thing," interrupted another voice from the corner, situated in a high-backed leather chair. "Lemme give him the old snip across the throat, he'll be more use on a plaque."

"Mistress…" whispered a small voice at the feet of the gruff women.

"Must you talk about him like this when he's in the room? It's a bit heartless, Aunt Walburga," Andromeda murmured from the floor, leaning back against the sofa on which her older sister and mother sat, "Besides, I think the bin bags are a good thing. Helps the Muggles with their landfill issues."

Silence reigned over the room.

"Or not."

"If I did not know any better I would think that you're learning about Muggle Studies, Andromeda," Druella murmured haughtily, casting her daughter a stern stare.

"What time is it?" Bellatrix snarled into the awkward silence, "Someone tell me."

"Three minutes to midnight," Cygnus replied dully, having said the time every few minutes for the past few hours. He removed his pipe from his mouth and placed it within the inner pocket of his waistcoat. "Not long to go now."

Bellatrix shifted restlessly, staring in exactly the same spot she had been for at least half a day. That moment, everyone else stared down at the carpet, also; mother, father, aunt, sisters, house-elf and, from the doorway, the timid shape of Regulus fixated on the one foreign object in the centre of the room.

One would not usually find an old, rotting banana skin in the middle of a room, nor would anyone ever expect it to receive such rapt attention. However, Grimmauld Place could hardly be considered normal by anyone's standards, even those of a fellow wizard, and it was at this object that the entire family were staring with such intensity.

Druella leant forwards in her seat beside her oldest daughter, towards the banana skin. She remained quiet but surveyed the object with a mixture of expectancy and excitement, as though it was about to raise itself up and begin tap-dancing.

"Remember, Bella," she whispered, suggesting she did not want to disturb the tension in the room. "We have been waiting for this for a long time. Make sure you get it right."

Bellatrix felt herself bristle with annoyance. Her hands tensed, nails digging into her knees. "Yes, mother," she muttered.

"Come, Druella, she knows what an honour this is. What an opportunity," Cygnus cut in, "Whatever happens, we'll be proud of her for this."

Bellatrix looked up. Her father was staring at her with soft, dark eyes. That look of intense curiosity, of pride, which she loved to see so much stared at her from across the room.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself.

"Just thirty seconds now, Bellatrix," Cygnus informed her, consulting his pocket watch closely. "Get ready."

Swiftly, Bellatrix moved off the sofa and onto the floor, approaching the banana skin on her hands and knees. She held out a finger, hovering over the piece of rubbish and staring at it as though it were a treasured possession.

"Good luck, Bells," Andromeda murmured, with a nod of agreement from Narcissa.

_I think I'll need it. _

"Alright. Ten… Nine… Eight…"

Everyone held their breath.

"Seven… Six… Five…"

In unison, everyone except Cygnus leant forwards in anticipation. Even Helios looked up from Narcissa's lap to watch the proceedings.

"Four… Three… Two…"

Something very tight gripped Bellatrix's stomach.

"One… Go."

Bellatrix pressed her entire hand into the banana skin. Within the second, she felt the feeling of something grabbing her, hard, and dragging her forwards, pulling her into a torrent of colour and sound which was going to take her far away from Grimmauld Place.

* * *

><p>Bellatrix's feet hit the ground, hard. Her knees buckled and she fell forwards, lying prone on the floor with eyes shut against the spinning world. She breathed deeply to try and resist the rising waves of nausea. She could feel dampness pressing against her face, and smell grass which was acting as her mattress, but otherwise had no indication of where she was, and didn't intend to find out anytime soon.<p>

Interrupting her blissful ignorance, however, she heard footfalls coming closer. Lumbering, hurried feet moved towards her, accompanied by a breathless hiss of, "Bellatrix. Bella, get up."

Next moment, she felt the ground fall away beneath her as a strong hand gripped her upper arm, hauling her to her feet. She fought the desire to be sick by swallowing and blearily opened her eyes, staring into the face of Rodolphus which she could only just make out beneath the hood of his cloak.

Swiftly, he brushed her off. "You're lucky you didn't bang your head," he muttered, casting dirt from the shoulder of her cloak, "All these graves."

Bellatrix blinked. _Graves?_ she wondered, oblivious, _What?_ Then, she took the opportunity to finally blink away the last remnants of bleariness from her eyes and study her surroundings. Her eyes narrowed in confusion.

She had been transported to the entrance of a graveyard. She had been lying, sprawled, between two wrought iron gates, which were thankfully open and creaking as a gentle wind nudged them. In front of her tombstones sprung up like uncoordinated, jagged teeth in the jaws of a rotting animal. There was so many that she could barely see beyond them, save for a few of the larger obelisks looming protectively over the smaller and less ostentatious stones. There was one thing they all had in common, however; most of them, grand or unimpressive, were covered up by moss or weeds. Clearly they were uncared for, and the perishing people beneath were long forgotten.

In the light of the moon, waning into a thin sliver despite the bright light radiating from the cloudless sky, Bellatrix could make out the faint outline of a small church, with nought but fields pressing in on every side. A small yew tree stood to the right of her, crooked, gnarled and struggling to grow among the multitude of weeds. A makeshift wooden signpost beside her stuttered _Li tle H ngl ton Gr veya d _in peeling letters, with any colour it once possessed stripped away to reveal the weathering wood. Some way down the road, Bellatrix thought she could see the light hitting a small settlement of houses, but couldn't be sure; before she could confirm, Rodolphus was navigating her roughly through the gravestones by her wrist.

"Rodolphus," she snapped, pulling her arm from his grip, "I can walk on my own."

"Right. Sorry. C'mon," he replied gruffly, leading her further into the place, skirting around the graves. He kept his eyes fixated in front of him.

"What ever is the matter with you?" Bellatrix asked waspishly, rubbing her wrist through her cloak. She could already feel where she would have bruises in the morning.

Rodolphus shrugged. "When I couldn't find you in the crowd, I was a bit worried you hadn't come. And I don't like places like this," he mumbled. "Sorry," he added as an afterthought.

Bellatrix opened her mouth to speak, but stopped as she caught sight of the centre of the graveyard. Should any Muggle have been somehow watching, Bellatrix would hazard a guess that they had never seen the place so alive (she ignored the irony of this completely, for it was inappropriate given the circumstances).

A whole swarm of people stood huddled together as though for protection, each shifting restlessly. They were all shrouded in black, hooded cloaks, heads down and faces hidden. Both Bellatrix and Rodolphus pulled their hoods further forwards, careful to not show their faces.

As soon as they approached, someone moved closer with the same gangly frame as Rodolphus but a bit taller; the demeanour, also, was similar when he spoke. "Didja get her?" asked Rabastan in a low voice, peering around at Bellatrix.

"Yeah," Rodolphus nodded, "S'alright. She was at the gates. What's gonna happen tonight?"

"I already told you, I can't tell you that," the older brother hissed back, "You'll find out soon enough."

"Huh, you're a load o' help, y'know that?" Rodolphus muttered. "Hey. Malfoy," he hissed to a figure near the edge of the group.

The man in the cloak started at his name being called, but swiftly moved over to the towering form of Rodolphus. "Why are you using my surname?" came the familiar drawl of Lucius as he spoke back to his friend, "He isn't here yet."

"Yes, but I don't want any o' these knowin' who we are," Rodolphus reasoned with a shrug.

Bellatrix could practically see those grey eyes rolling.

"I'm just bein' careful."

"How many people do you know with the name Malfoy, Rodolphus?" Lucius returned, "It's not the most cryptic of clues, is it?"

Bellatrix sighed in exasperation. "Would you two shut up? There are more important things to be dealing with."

"Hello to you too, Bella," Lucius muttered indignantly, but Bellatrix was spared answering for, at that moment, the graveyard, quiet save for the murmurs of conversing ex-Slytherins, descended into uproar.

A loud crack, like a whip lashing down onto flesh, cut through the air. A streak of white light lit up the graveyard, causing the cloaked figures to disperse like sheep having spotted a wolf. Unaware of what was happening, they bleated and shrieked, milling around each other in search of safety.

The only reason any calm descended was for the figures coming to their senses and noticing the man in the middle of them, the only one not shrouded by a hood. Dressed in long, black robes, his pale face and dark hair were bathed in the moonlight, unmissable among the grey stone and black cloaks surrounding him.

With an air of authority, the man who called himself Voldemort raised his wand high in the air. He languidly, with no effort or word at all, traced it around his head. On the ground, a bright white line appeared. Like a serpent, the line writhed, shuddered and began to move, slithering across the grass and sliding around the conjurer until it had formed a complete circle around him. There it grew still, glowing in the dark grass and lighting up the surrounding area. A number of figures moved away from the light, pulling their hoods to hide their faces.

"Stand here," he ordered, motioning to the line. His voice carried easily around the graveyard, clear and cool, yet still no one so much as flinched for a good few seconds. Then, slowly, the figures began to move towards the line, standing cautiously upon it.

Bellatrix was careful to stay close to Rodolphus, and he to Lucius, as the three of them took place in the circular formation around Voldemort. Rabastan took his place at Bellatrix's other side. There was just enough room for everyone to snugly fit in, and, once everyone had, nothing moved anymore. The light of the line faded and died. Silence completely reigned over the graveyard, every pair of shadowed eyes set on the man in the centre of the circle.

For a long time, Voldemort said nothing, only cast his eyes around at every man and woman in turn. Bellatrix guessed that he was counting, and comparing it to the number of names on the list accumulated at the Hog's Head. She half-hoped that, for their sake, everyone had the sense to attend tonight.

Seemingly finished, the man's face split into a smile – and an unnatural smile at that, Bellatrix thought. It was toothy and wide, yet didn't meet his cold eyes. He raised his arms out at his sides, commanding attention from the group around him and seemingly not knowing that even if he didn't move at all no eye could have torn itself away from him, even if it had wanted to.

"My _friends,_" he said silkily, in a whisper which carried easily through the stillness, "My loyal servants. So pleased am I to see that the majority of you managed to make it here without issue, both old and new. I am sure my older followers" – His eyes passed deliberately over the figure of Rabastan as he turned to continue looking at everyone else. – "are very pleased to see that we have grown, quantitatively. I shall make it my business to reward those who have made it possible." He nodded subtly to one cloaked figure.

They drew themselves up proudly. Since the moon was hitting their face directly, Bellatrix could make out the distinct features of a Nott, darker and more mature than the one she had been at school with up until barely a month prior. She guessed that the boy was one of the figures beside the smug man.

"Of course, there is one or two missing… One is too cowardly to return to me, and the other tried to tell someone of that fateful night in the Hog's Head, I do believe. Hm. I daresay that they have already got their due." A shiver passed around the circle, for his voice carried such venom that they could all guess exactly what the 'due' was.

Bellatrix heard someone whimper to the right of her.

Voldemort went on smiling, albeit more cruelly. "I must say, I had not expected the interest and the loyalty to my cause from ones so young. It seems that the Muggle contamination is already beginning to overpower Hogwarts school for students to think so passionately about assisting me in what I do. For this I am both grateful to have followers who still value blood purity so highly, and disgusted, for Muggles and Mudbloods are being allowed over the threshold of such a mighty establishment. Even in the Ministry of Magic." He laughed hollowly. Another shiver passed around the group. "Well. It will all soon change, my friends. It will. The Ministry will be overthrown, and Hogwarts school will be rid of the Muggle-loving blood traitor known as Albus Dumbledore."

At the name, a few of the group hissed, one spitting onto the ground. Most stayed silent.

"This is all I ask of you. Join me, and we can vanquish this beast which never should have been allowed birth once and for all." He cast his hard gaze around, expectantly. No one moved.

Bellatrix, knowing no one else would do anything, sighed in exasperation. She didn't feel the same tension that everyone else seemed to, nor the fear, nor the awe. He was just another man. Before Rodolphus could hiss at her to stop, she pushed her hood back, raised her chin, and spoke up: "What will you expect of us? And why are we here?"

Voldemort, who had been staring at the people opposite Bellatrix, slowly turned to face her. His eyes seemed to flash as they set upon her face, his expression setting into one of recognition. "Excuse me, Miss Black?" His eyes held a kind of wild ferocity, as though daring her to repeat what she had said.

Bellatrix, unafraid, parroted herself.

Voldemort approached her. Contrary to Bellatrix's prior impressions, he was taller than her by a good few inches. He seemed a lot more mature compared to her memory of their first meeting, and his skin appeared even paler, with a certain thanatoid quality.

She held herself up to her fullest height, keeping her chin up and her eyes set resolutely on his, despite the niggling hint of fear which played in the pit of her stomach.

"Tell me, Miss Black, did your mother never teach you the appropriate propriety of Pureblooded women?" he inquired in a soft hiss.

Bellatrix heard the imminent threat behind his words once again. Her eyes narrowed.

"Voldemort, look," Rodolphus said hurriedly at Bellatrix's side, "She didn't mean it, she was jus-"

"_Silence!_" the man commanded, not even looking at Rodolphus. "You do not speak unless you are spoken to, and you will refer to me as 'my Lord' or 'master'. If you forget that, Lestrange, the consequences will be much more severe." Rodolphus said nothing more. "Now, Miss Black. Perhaps you should follow the same ideas, yes?"

Bellatrix bristled. "I'm afraid, _my Lord, _I am not very close to my mother, nor did I take much notice in her lessons of etiquette. Perhaps you'd like to see my sister if you want someone like that in your ranks."

The entire circle held their breaths, save for someone on the other side of Rodolphus who inhaled sharply. Bellatrix didn't have to be a genius to guess who it was.

"The perhaps you should simply hold your tongue," Voldemort replied conversationally.

"But I have been spoken to. Would it not be bad etiquette for me to not speak, my Lord?"

For more seconds than Bellatrix could bring herself to count, all was deathly silent. She heard someone whisper, "Merlin's beard," under their breath, but no one paid it any heed.

Suddenly, as though someone had just lit a candle behind his eyes, Voldemort's expression changed. His face became softer, his eyes less intimidating. It was that same stare of mild interest which she had seen from her father barely half an hour ago. It unnerved Bellatrix a lot more than the look of killer intensity.

She leant back from Voldemort just a little.

"You, Miss Black, are a strange one," he whispered softly, "Perhaps you may prove to be useful to me yet."

Bellatrix said nothing.

Smiling again, Voldemort moved away from Bellatrix and returned to the centre of the circle. "What I will expect of you all is simple. To fight. For those of you with high-standing jobs to seek information which can help our cause, and for the rest of you to rid the world of Muggle influence. And, if I have to spell out how to do that to you, you shouldn't be here."

The two largest figures shifted, looking at each other before looking back. Clearly Crabbe and Goyle were having trouble working out what they had to do.

"Now, you are here because you are, tonight, going to pledge your allegiance to me. You are going to show me that you intend to be faithful. If you mean, Miss Black, why are you literally here," – He motioned to the graveyard. – "then, well, this place is of some… significance. But for now that is unimportant.

"Now, if there is anyone here who thinks that they cannot pledge their allegiance, their life, to myself, and who will prove to be more of a liability than assistance, speak now. If you cannot bring yourself to rid the world of Muggles and those of filthy magical blood, come forwards."

No one moved.

"Then you can all murder for what is right?"

A whimper once again came from Bellatrix's right. This time, it did not go unnoticed.

"You," Voldemort whispered, turning around to see who had made the little squeak. "You are afraid at the very prospect. Come, come forwards. Lower your hood so we can see you."

Bellatrix glanced sideways at the figure. They weren't moving, but their entire body was physically trembling. Holding back a sigh, Bellatrix looked down towards the floor.

"No? Come now, come!" Voldemort continued, and flicked his wand upwards. As though unable to stop themselves, the figure staggered forwards into the centre of the circle. Another flick and they were on their knees, whimpering more openly now.

Slowly, almost seductively, the dark-haired man leant down and pulled the hood of the person's cloak back. The moonlight fell upon a trail of long, blonde hair. For a heart-rending moment Bellatrix was sure that the figure was Narcissa, until her hair was gripped in Voldemort's long, slender fingers and her head was jerked forcefully back.

The face that looked up, eyes wide and streaming, mouth agape in terror, was not that of Bellatrix's sister. It was nowhere near as fair; angular and harsh. She recognised the girl as someone who had been in her year at Hogwarts, but they had never exchanged a word, nor been anywhere near each other except for when she had wormed her way onto Lucius' lap one night.

She felt a sudden surge of anger towards both the girl and Lucius. She knew that it had happened years before Narcissa had shown any interest, but he was still a cheating scumbag. She wanted them both to be punished.

"Does anyone know who this is?" Voldemort wondered to the group icily.

There was a subdued pause, before a small voice Bellatrix didn't recognise replied with, "Georgina Winterskill, my Lord."

"Are you afraid, Georgina?" Voldemort questioned softly, letting go of her hair and standing back up, "Are you scared of your Lord?"

She didn't speak, head falling back down to face the ground.

Moving away from the girl, Voldemort once again spoke. "You are all my family now. My dear, faithful friends. And if you serve me well, like those of a good family should, then you will be rewarded. However. If, like Miss Winterskill here, you wish you wish to leave my side… I will not be pleased. And when I am not pleased, you will be punished." He turned back to Georgina, who stared up with wide, petrified eyes.

"Pl-please!" she shrieked in blind panic, "Please, don't d-"

"Do you wish to reconsider?"

"Please, pl-please, n-"

"_Crucio,_" was the soft reply.

Bellatrix wouldn't be surprised if the scream which cut the air carried for miles.

The girl grew rigid, writhing and twitching on the floor in paroxysm she couldn't control, eyes and mouth wide, uttering the most terrible scream. Another flick of Voldemort's wand and the girl was in the air, back arching in pain, muscles growing stiff, the scream never relenting.

The group stared up at her with horror, knowing they were unable to help unless they wished to share the same punishment. A few looked down, covered their ears with their hands and pretended it wasn't happening. Bellatrix kept watching, observing the girl's wild, rolling eyes.

It must have been for more than ten minutes that Voldemort suspended the girl, inflicting the most agonising pain upon her. By the time he was finished, she was no longer crying or screaming, merely twitching as though she had been electrocuted. It seemed she had nothing left within her to beg for help anymore. He pulled his wand away from its position, and she fell to the ground with a hard _thump_.

Georgina's eyes were completely glassy, focusing on something which no one else could see. Her mouth was open, and she seemed to have the inability to close it. Her rigid body twitched on the ground, her breaths being sucked in in deep shudders.

Much as Bellatrix wanted Winterskill to be punished, she decided that the girl didn't deserve that. No one did. She averted her eyes, refusing to look at the prone form.

_At least she's no longer sane enough to feel humiliated._

"Now," Voldemort hissed, "Is there anyone else who wishes to back out now?" Bellatrix was sure she heard a spider move through the grass at her feet. "A wise decision. Now. All of you lower your hoods. And those who have not done it before, lift the left sleeve of your cloak up to the elbow."

The figure beside the adult Nott lowered his hood first, proving Bellatrix's suspicions that it was the boy she had gone to school with beside his father. Clearly having expected this command, he was also the first to pull up his sleeve to the elbow. Everyone cautiously followed suit.

"Good," Voldemort smiled, stepping over the stilled form of Georgina and gripping the wrist of the nearest follower. "Avery, am I correct?" he asked silkily. The boy nodded timidly.

Everyone watched with voyeuristic curiosity as Voldemort drew his wand forwards and pressed it against the boy's forearm with enough force to dent his skin. The boy sharply inhaled, but didn't say anything. Even if he had, Voldemort probably would have taken no notice whatsoever, for he was already hunching over the boy's arm. Then he began to speak.

Bellatrix could hear nought but whispers, the murmurs of a complicated incantation, before Avery cried out in pain. He bit his lip quickly, but still Voldemort took no notice, tracing his wand down the boy's forearm.

In less than a minute, it was over.

As though to admire his handiwork, Voldemort stood up straight and looked fondly down at the boy's forearm. The pale skin was now adorned with an image; a skull with a winding snake protruding from its mouth, blood red, as though carved into the skin.

Avery was trembling uncontrollably and, when Voldemort moved away, gripped his forearm over the brand, hard. Bellatrix could see regret etched into the despair on his face, and into many of those around her. They wanted to back out, but the sight of Georgina was stopping them – with good reason.

They had no choice.

She glanced towards Rodolphus. All colour seemed to have drained out of him except a sickly green tinge. She peered around him and saw Lucius appeared no better. Avoiding notice, Bellatrix inched towards Rodolphus and gently pressed her hand into his.

She felt him squeeze her fingers gratefully, and heard him swallow hard.

The group watched as Voldemort made his way steadily around each of them, providing them with the vivid brand in turn. Rodolphus let go of Bellatrix's hand as he got closer, seemingly for fear of punishment.

Lucius and Rodolphus were put through the ritual before Bellatrix. She couldn't bring herself to watch; she knew that their families wanted this, and hers too. They all believed in blood purity, ridding the world of Muggle scum, but she knew that they were nailing their souls to the altar of a man who called them companions, but thought of them as little more than the men he was making it his business to kill.

She turned her head away, looking instead at a nearby gravestone. It was a lot less overgrown, with weeds spilling around it as opposed to over it, hinting that someone had recently pushed them from the tribute. It was made of grey marble as opposed to the granite ones surrounding it. She barely had the time to read the name on it –

_Tom Riddle_

– before she felt long, icy fingers close around her wrist. Her head snapped back to face forwards, eyes meeting those of Voldemort.

He glanced at the spot where her gaze had been fixed just moments before. She saw some form of emotion deep within the retinas, the corner of his lip curl up as though in distaste, before he looked back to her.

_Or did I see it at all? He looks just like he always does. _

He said nothing to her, but leant down, pressed his wand to her forearm and, once again, began muttering the incantation. Searing pain cut into Bellatrix's flesh but she bit the inside of her lip, not giving him the satisfaction of letting out some noise of discomfort. Her eyes clenched shut, and her free hand balled into a fist, her nails digging so hard into her palm that she was sure she was going to break skin.

Then, it was over. Voldemort, without so much as looking at her, passed on to repeat the process with the next person on the other side of Rabastan. It took him just over an hour to perform the act upon everyone, by which time Georgina had fallen unconscious.

"Now," he declared, when he had finished and returned to the centre of the circle, "You are officially mine. My family. My humble, loyal followers. Should ever I need you, then this will be my call. Malfoy, come. Allow me to demonstrate."

Like a man to gallows, Lucius wandered blindly forwards, his feet dragging along the grass. Voldemort gripped the man's arm, raised it up and pressed his forefinger to Lucius' brand.

Sharp, pained intakes of breath echoed around the group. Bellatrix felt like she was being stabbed repeatedly in the forearm, and gripped the brand through her cloak. She guessed that, like Lucius', it had turned jet black, but didn't care enough to look. She wanted to go home.

"I think that I have kept you among the dead for long enough," Voldemort hissed, releasing Lucius and bidding him return to his place in the group, "And I have accomplished all I desired for tonight. Soon, I will call upon you all, and you shall all come." He needed to say nothing else. The form of the unconscious girl at his feet formed a threat stronger than his icy words ever could. They all knew that nothing would stop them joining him should he call. "Now, go. And if anyone touches Winterskill, you shall share her fate."

A ripple passed through the circle, carrying a relieved sigh. Most disapparated at once, melting away into a flourish of darkness.

"Rodolphus, allow me to stay at your house tonight?" Lucius whispered hurriedly, "I think there are things we need to discuss."

_Yes, like you being too afraid to be on your own, _Bellatrix thought bitterly.

"Yeah, sure," Rodolphus muttered distractedly, "Come on, Bella, I think we should-"

"Miss Black. Not you," cut Voldemort's voice through the quietening air. "You stay here."

A weight set in the pit of Bellatrix's stomach. By the look of Rodolphus' face, he had experienced the same. "Go, Rodolphus, go," Bellatrix sighed, "It will be fine."

Rodolphus, eyes flicking concernedly between his girlfriend, Voldemort and Georgina, hesitated. "But I-… Okay. Send me an owl to know you got home alright, okay?"

"Good luck, Bella," Lucius murmured, and Rabastan clapped her on the shoulder in agreement.

Bellatrix nodded, and turned away before Rodolphus and the other two disapparated. She didn't want to see that she was being left alone in the graveyard.

"Come here," Voldemort murmured, when the area was completely devoid of conscious people save for him and her.

Bellatrix, swallowing, approached the man. She noticed that he was standing close to the marble gravestone, and silently wondered if that was the reason for his link to the place.

_He doesn't seem the sentimental type. _

When she was standing directly in front of him, drawing herself up to her full height, Voldemort spoke: "Miss Black. If you wish to stay within my ranks, you should begin to watch your tongue."

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed. "Do you have problems with questions, my Lord?"

His eyes darkened. "Must you always talk out of line?"

"My Lord, I was merely curious as to why you had brought us here."

"Curiosity killed the cat, Miss Black."

Bellatrix's nostrils flared. "Luckily enough, I am not a cat."

His lips curled up at one side, into a mocking excuse for a smile. "Are you always so… inquisitive?"

Bellatrix looked downwards, towards the gravestone.

Voldemort's smile didn't reach his voice. "Seemingly so. One day that curiosity will send you mad."

For once, his words didn't sound like a threat. It sounded like a promise. Bellatrix didn't like it. Before she could stop herself, more to change the subject that anything else, she motioned down towards Georgina. "What are you going to do with her?"

Voldemort's smile widened. "My suspicions are confirmed," he whispered softly, to Bellatrix's annoyance. "I am not sure yet, Miss Black. What do you think I should do with her?"

There was a pause. "Let her go."

"Disappointing."

"Well, she's in the right place for anything else, I suppose," she scowled.

Voldemort laughed, that harsh titter of a laugh. Bellatrix's hair stood up on end. "Better," he confirmed silkily, "Better. Now, go. Remember what I have told you, Bellatrix."

She hesitated at the use of her name, but quickly nodded. "Yes, master," she muttered, wanting very quickly to get away – away from those mildly amused, mildly interested eyes which she found she had been trying to obtain.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading thus far.<strong>


	4. Chapter 3

**Thanking my faithful readers and reviewers in the only way I know how – a quick-as-possible update. You're all beautiful.**

**Apologies that it's short. That thing called real life is getting in the way.**

**I hope you enjoy.~**

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><p>The second-largest bedroom on the second floor of Grimmauld Place was not what one would call incredibly interesting. That is to say there was nothing entirely out of the ordinary housed in there at all.<p>

White, uninteresting walls and a white, uninteresting ceiling were the basis of the room, with a threadbare carpet which was once luscious and deep green. A white vanity table was pressed against the far wall, upon which was an ornate mirror beside a jar of white facial powder which had never been touched, a brush and comb set enamelled with mother of pearl, and a jewellery box inside which a ballerina performed a full routine from The Nutcracker when it was opened. In front of the table was a small matching stool.

The drawers were filled with sheets of parchment, seemingly random scribblings or little amateur doodles that had been created in some early year of Hogwarts which their artist couldn't bring themselves to get rid of.

A double bed was pressed against the opposite wall, next to a large bookcase full of dusty, fabric-bound tomes. At various points around the room – ornamenting the top of the wardrobe, the windowsill, shelves, and anywhere else where there was a spare square inch of space – little trinkets habited. From thimbles to porcelain dragons which smoked at the nostrils, there was barely any space free in the bedroom, and, if there was, it was sure to be taken up by some useless ornament or another sometime soon.

The owner of the room sat in a high-backed leather chair, borrowed from Grimmauld Place's dining room. She found them to be much more comfortable than any others in the house, and secretly rather enjoyed watching Kreacher struggle to carry it up the stairs. It was turned towards the window, the occupant's slender fingers holding a pair of knitting needles and carefully guiding them to wind intricately in a manner that wouldn't result in a woolly, messy failure.

The day was a fair one, and the windows were thrown open to invite the last few breaths of summer, for a distinct autumn chill was already beginning to poison the breeze. The sound of a Muggle using some strange contraption on their front lawn whirred nearby, the scent of freshly-cut grass accompanying it. Bellatrix breathed in deeply, for it was one of her favourite smells. She supposed it would be the last time she would get to experience it for a long time, with the encroaching autumn.

Bellatrix sighed.

For her, every day of August had dragged. Every hour of the infernal month felt like an entire day in itself. Every time she woke up from a night of restless sleep, it felt as if she was waking up in the same day that she had woken up in the day before. Yet, as it began to draw to a close, and as the little calendar on her beside table got lazier in changing to the correct day for want of sleep in the darker mornings, she found herself thinking that it had gone far too fast. She could only watch the hours trickle by.

She could no longer hide her betrothal behind another year of Hogwarts. The slim ring adorned with a tiny diamond which she made every excuse not to wear beckoned to her from deep within the confines of her jewellery box. She would not be Miss Black for much longer.

Looking distractedly out of the window and watching a group of Muggle youths wandering past, kicking a can as they did, she scowled and pointedly ignored the thought of being anything but Miss Black. Bellatrix Black. That was all.

_Yes. Yes, that's it. Bellatrix Black. I am Bellatrix Black. Bellatrix Bla-_

"Ready, Bells?" came a sudden voice from the open door of Bellatrix's room.

The owner leant back in her chair, away from the window and looked up from her knitting needles.

Andromeda folded her arms and leant against the doorframe, looking casually in. She nodded. "Y'all good to go?"

Bellatrix surveyed her sister carefully. She tried to look contemptuous, but guessed it looked more like mild amusement. "I don't think I ever will be, Andy."

"Yeah? Well, mum's certainly ready."

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed. She leant back in her chair, watching her needles moodily. "I'm sure she is. We all know she's been wanting to palm me off on someone else for years."

"Oh, c'mon, sis. You know that's not true." Andromeda then considered this, and shrugged. She stepped into the room, towards Bellatrix. "You _are _the oldest, Bella. And it's not like any of us have a choice, we're all getting chucked off at some point. Besides, you know full well you're a daddy's girl. At least mum chose the guy you're already… well, with."

Bellatrix nodded slowly. "Yes, I know. But…" She stared wistfully at the wedding dress, suspended in front of her wardrobe like a symbol of impending doom.

It was long, sweeping and elegant, with intricate embroidery adorning the bodice. Long sleeves which clung to Bellatrix's arms had been tailored upon it. It was pleasant, pretty enough, but Bellatrix didn't see it that way. She saw only captivity in the webs of lace, confinement in the satin folds of the skirts. "I don't want to be married."

Andromeda was apparently regardless. "Just think, you'll be having a sprog soon," she wondered in an airy, playful tone.

Bellatrix didn't see the funny side.

Making sure to not knock over any of the small ornaments which cluttered Bellatrix's bedroom, Andromeda cautiously stepped into the room and sat herself upon the bed. "I suppose you'll have to downsize," she said, motioning around at the objects distractedly, "I'll bet a house you and Rodolphus share won't hold all of this… treasure."

"Hmph," was the haughty reply, expanded by, "If you move that, I'll hex you."

Andromeda froze in her reaching out for a metallic, curled up dragon on the bedside table. "Bella, it's just an ornament."

"Everything has its place, Andy."

Andromeda tutted, shaking her head and shifting back on the bed to rest against the wall. "You're crazy, y'know that?"

Bellatrix resisted rolling her eyes, ignoring her sister. "I had to downsize when Cissy got me kicked out of the biggest bedroom. I'm not doing it again."

Andromeda smiled. "Gone are the days when she didn't know how to hoard material possessions and that bigger is better, huh?" A small smirk twitched at her lips. "Here's hoping Malfoy can live up to her expecta-"

"Oh, don't," Bellatrix cut in, scowling, "I don't even want to _think _about him, the insufferable son-of-a-bludger."

From somewhere on the landing, just outside the door, the two girls heard a rather haughty, "Hmph!"

Bellatrix met Andromeda's eyes and quickly stowed her knitting down the side of her chair, gaze flicking towards the open door.

"Cissy," called Andromeda lazily, "Haven't we taught you it's bad to skulk outside rooms and eavesdrop?"

"I do not _skulk_," was the indignant reply, just past the doorframe.

"It's a bad habit, Cissy, you do it far too often," Bellatrix agreed, absently threading her fingers together and placing them on her lap. "How long have you been there?"

"Not long," replied Narcissa. She slowly moved to stand in the doorframe, the innocent little pout which usually got her out of trouble shaping her lips. "Why would you say that about Lucius?"

"It is kinda true, Cissy," Andromeda added, taking a piece of fluff from her blouse and discarding it onto Bellatrix's floor. "He could be less of an arse."

"Who spat in _your _pumpkin juice?" Narcissa demanded, clearly irritated. Bellatrix was sure she was close to stamping her feet and screaming.

"Back me up here, Bells," Andromeda muttered, waving a flippant hand.

"Because, my dear Cissy, he's an elitist, good-for-nothing-…Good-for-nothing, and he's just using you."

Narcissa looked positively livid. "I don't know what you have against him, Bella, but he's not how you think he is. He's… Well. He's nice." She considered this a moment, before shrugging. "I know what he used to be like, but… People can change, Bella."

Bellatrix almost snorted. "A niffler can't change its snout," she grumbled, "I just don't like the idea of you…_seeing _him."

Narcissa sighed in exasperation. "Well, you'll have to get used to the idea, Bella, since he's going to be the best man tomorrow."

A twinge of annoyance flew through Bellatrix's face, her lip curling up and her eyes darkening for a moment. She turned to look out of the window. "I should've guessed, I suppose. As if I could ever avoid the bas-"

"Bellatrix, I'd appreciate it if you could stop insulting him," Narcissa interrupted sharply, folding her arms in defiance. Despite her irate expression, however, she stepped into the room and made her way over to the stool in front of Bellatrix's vanity table. She sat cross-legged upon the little padded seat, casting disdainful looks at the thin carpet. "I don't insult Rodolphus."

"She does that enough for all of us, Cissy," Andromeda chortled, sprawling out on the bed like a dead rabbit.

"Who else is going to be there tomorrow?" Bellatrix wondered quietly to Narcissa, "Has mother told you?"

"Of course she has. But why hasn't she told you?" Narcissa's eyebrow rose disbelievingly. "It's _your_ wedding."

"Really? Thank you, Cissy, I hadn't noticed."

Sighing irritably, Narcissa shrugged. "Most of the Lestranges, except for Éracei's brother who's off in Norway looking for a rare species of horklump, the Ros-"

"Wait, wait," Andromeda spoke swiftly, holding up her hand, "Who or what is in the name of Merlin's nasal hair is Éracei?"

Again, Narcissa sighed. "Don't you pay _any _attention to your sisters, Andy?"

"Yes," she replied defensively, shrugging, "Just not all that much."

"Clearly," Narcissa muttered, "Éracei is the name of Rodolphus' father. Nesferina is his mother."

"Does the whole family have weird bloody names?"

The youngest and oldest girls stared hard at the middle child.

"What?" Andromeda protested to their stern gaze.

"Your name is Andromeda," Bellatrix replied simply.

Andromeda considered this. "Touché," she concluded.

"Now, as I was saying," Narcissa huffed, pushing her hair over her shoulder and glancing at herself in the mirror on top of the vanity table, "There's the Lestranges. All of the Blacks, of course. I think mother's invited every relation that we have, no matter how weak the bond."

Bellatrix groaned, leaning back in her chair tiredly and covering her face with her hand.

_Oh, Merlin, please don't let this be true._

Narcissa was not finished, however. "I think she's invited some of the Rosiers, too. And the Crabbes. No doubt that Vincent got an invitation with which he could bring a friend along, so I suppose that at least one Goyle will be there too. Maybe the Rockwoods." She shrugged.

Bellatrix, pushed her head back against the chair and scowled darkly. "No wonder mother didn't want to discuss any of this with me. Is there anyone _not_ coming?"

"Well, I know that Lucius' family was invited, but I don't think they'll be there."

"Well, thank Merlin for that. I don't think I could endure more than one of them."

Narcissa's brow furrowed darkly. She opened her mouth to no doubt begin a very loud protest, but stopped at the sound of a soft tinkle; the delicate chime of a bell, coming steadily closer, interrupted her. All three girls turned their attention to the doorway as the sound got closer, until Helios was standing in their line of sight. A small sliver of black material which looked remarkably like rubber was stuck between the little animal's jaws.

He looked around each of the girls in turn, with wide, innocent eyes.

Andromeda's eyebrow twitched upwards. "Uh, Cissy, I think your cat's been eating Siri-"

From the floor above, a thunderous roar of, "My tyres! I am going to kill that cat!" echoed around the house.

"Yep. Helios's been eating Sirius' motorbike again," Andromeda confirmed.

"Well, he shouldn't have the mutated Muggle motor-_thing_," Narcissa declared, quickly rising from her seat and running after the little grey Chatreux who had scarpered at the sound of the hollering Black upstairs.

Bellatrix sighed, and waited patiently for the sounds of slamming doors, bellowing voices and pounding feet on the stairs to subside.

_One… Two… Three…_

"Alright," nodded Bellatrix, "I think it's safe to-"

"BLOODY CAT."

She started counting again, while Andromeda quite wisely got up to slam the bedroom door shut.

"You can't say you'll be glad to get away from all _this,_" Andromeda muttered, pointing a thumb over her shoulder to motion outside the bedroom door.

"Mm," was Bellatrix's only reply. She reached down the side of her chair for her knitting, returning to twisting and swishing the needles in intricate rhythms. "Anyway, what was I saying before Cissy came in?"

"Uhm…" Andromeda thought hard, crinkling up the bridge of her nose in concentration and sitting back on the bed. "We were talking about how Cissy kicked you out of your bedroom."

"Oh, yes, that's right. I was going to say that when I'm…" She sighed and concentrated hard on her knitting. "When I'm gone I suppose you'll be having this room. It's bigger than yours."

Andromeda laughed. "You _are _kidding. Cissy'll be using it for the rest of her stuff which she can't fit in her room."

"Or Helios."

"Exactly. If he lives through today."

The oldest sister nodded mutely. The two fell into an uncomfortable silence, in which the only sound was the quiet clicking of Bellatrix's needles and the whirring Muggle contraption outside coughing and spluttering. They both listened to the Muggle himself cursing profusely, thankful for the situation not being completely deathly-quiet.

Andromeda awkwardly cleared her throat. "What're you making?"

"A doll."

Andromeda's brow furrowed. "Why aren't you using your wand for that?"

"It's for Cissy's birthday," Bellatrix replied matter-of-factly, "It's special, so I want to do it by hand."

"What?" declared Andromeda disbelievingly, "It's months off yet!"

Bellatrix shrugged one shoulder. "I may not have much time when I'm Mrs. Lestrange."

"Oh. Yeah. That."

Another tense silence descended on the two.

Andromeda was, again, the first to speak. "So where's it gonna be again? This wedding."

"You really don't ever listen, do you, Andy?"

Andomeda shook her head.

"Rodolphus' house. Well, his parent's house. La Maison De Deux Sir Morde Raie," Bellatrix muttered.

Andromeda raised an eyebrow. "That's one helluva mouthful. But of course it's on the groom's land. I shoulda guessed."

"You should have, Andy. It _is _tradition."

"Oh yeah, and when could The _Ancient_ and _Most Noble _House of Black _ever _deviate from tradition? Merlin forbid the thought," she declared mockingly.

Bellatrix, despite herself, couldn't help a soft smirk. "You got your adjectives mixed up."

"Just because you're getting married tomorrow doesn't mean I won't throw something at you," Andromeda threatened, with a stern stare which she couldn't quite keep the amusement from. Soon, however, her features lost their playful charm, and she grew quiet. "I'll miss you, y'know, Bells," she murmured delicately. "Even though you're really annoying and weird, even though you eat all the cherry and pumpkin pies, and even though you're a stroppy little madam at times… I'll miss you. A lot. It won't be the same here without you."

Staring stiffly at her wool, Bellatrix nodded. Her eyes softened. "Yes. I know."

Andromeda, quickly understanding, rose. "Well, I guess I should go and help mum with dinner. Or dad with his crossword. You know how he gets when he can't work out the clues in the _Prophet_. He'll be putting 'Mudbloods' to a type of common pest before setting fire to the paper."

She laughed shakily and left Bellatrix's room, allowing the eldest sister, who had always gotten what she wanted from her father before, to truly come to terms with the concept of her fate and deal with the stinging behind her eyes in private.

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><p>Here, have some etymology:<p>

La Maison De Deux Sir Morde Raie – The House of Two Sir Bite Ray. I chose this because: one, it is a play on 'la maison de douceur modérée' which means 'a moderately pleasant house'; two, it fits in with the French-ness of Lestrange; three, it makes absolutely no sense and I love it like that.

Éracei – a French play on 'Arrakis', the name of a star in the constellation Draco (Rabastan's name is also derived from a star in this constellation, 'Rastaban').

Nesferina – a play on the old German wold 'nosferatu', just as Rodolphus' name is derived from the old German word for wolf.

**Thank you for reading thus far. **


	5. Chapter 4

**A quick thank you here to my faithful readers and reviewers – let me keep you.**

**I hope you enjoy.~**

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><p>Bright sunlight flooded the foreign room. A breeze carrying the scents of falling leaves and a distant vow of snow nudged the thin, white curtains through the open window. A single four-poster bed dozed in the centre of the room, sheets clean, uncreased and unslept in for quite some time. The walls were a dark shade of red, and the only furniture at all was a large, dark wardrobe standing on clawed feet and a chest of drawers which were both usually empty and devoid of ornament.<p>

However, on this day the room was disturbed, so much so that even the spiders refused to leave the refuge of their skirting boards. The wardrobe seemed to lean forwards now and again, as though looking in awe at the state of its wooden companion, for the top of the chest of drawers was completely full of a cluttered assortment of items. A large jar of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, seven types of comb and brush, powder, blusher, eyeshadow, mascara, a tiara of white pearls. Also on this day, to add to the confusion of the poor furniture, a number of mirrors had been introduced to the room, forming a semi-circle in the corner with a small white pedestal in front of them.

A pale figure, feeling incredibly self-conscious, stood upon the round wooden block. She folded her arms across her chest in order to not feel so exposed for, even in the dress which clung to her body, she felt entirely naked.

_Oh, Merlin, please tell me this isn't happening, _she pleaded to herself.

"Stop _moving_, Bellatrix," Druella scolded, holding her daughter still by gripping her upper arms, "You're going to ruin your hair. Merlin knows I'm not starting that all over again."

Bellatrix scowled at her reflection in the mirrors which encircled her, but stood stiffly at her mother's command. The only part of her that moved was her watchful eyes, gaze wandering down her body dressed in pure fabric. A bouquet of dark roses was held loosely at her side, while Druella pushed and pulled here and there, ironing out creases with her hands.

"Leave her alone, mum," Andromeda muttered lazily to Druella from her perch on the edge of the bed, "If I was getting married I'd be restless too."

"You say that as though implying you're _not_ getting married," Druella muttered, bustling around the oldest sister

Andromeda opened her mouth to reply, but Narcissa, sitting next to her, elbowed her in the side to keep her quiet.

"And get into your dress, Andromeda," Druella continued authoritatively, "Narcissa's already in hers."

"Yeah, and see how _she_ looks," Andromeda muttered, earning another elbow in the ribs from Narcissa.

"It isn't that bad," the youngest scoffed haughtily, pulling at the neckline of her deep red dress. Her fingers absently found a necklace of pearls which Lucius had given her for her last birthday. "It's quite nice on, Andy."

Andromeda sighed. "Yeah, right. I think I'll enjoy it as much as Helly's enjoying his outfit." She inclined her head, motioning over to the sulking grey cat in the corner of the room who was sporting a large red ribbon around his neck, fashioned into a bow the size and appearance of a ruffled cauliflower.

"I think he looks rather fetching," pouted Narcissa.

"Andromeda, get ready!" Druella ordered.

With an exasperated sigh, Andromeda pushed herself off the bed and set to changing her jeans and a shirt to a bride's maid's dress which Druella would be much more approving of.

Glancing away from the mirrors and out of the open window, Bellatrix could just about make out the back garden. A large, deep red marquee dominated the area, shielding the view of the chairs and altar from her. She could just about make out guests milling about with glasses of mandrake wine and butterbeer, awaiting the blushing bride. Blacks, Lestranges, Rosiers, all muddled into one tiny, confined space. Something had to go wrong.

She sighed and turned her head away, much to her mother's annoyance.

"Stay _still_," Druella repeated in vexation, as she approached Bellatrix with the pot of white powder.

Bellatrix shied away from the brush, but to no avail, for Druella was persistent and didn't back down until it had touched her oldest daughter's cheeks.

"Mother, you know I hate this," Bellatrix scowled, narrowing her eyes, "It's a ridiculous Muggle fashion."

"Then how did I get it in Diagon Alley, hm?" Druella replied distractedly, patting powder onto her daughter's cheeks, "Muggles aren't intelligent enough for this."

"Hey, mum, y'know the Muggle woman who lives next door to us?" inquired Andromeda airily, "Thought you might like to know that orange isn't her natural colour."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, mum, that it's make-up that's making her look like the inside of a pumpkin pasty," she replied with a note of irritation, trying to pull her dress up over her bra without having had much practise at it in her life.

"Oh, that's nice, dear," Druella simpered.

Andromeda snorted.

"Don't do that!" the mother declared in disgust, throwing Andromeda a filthy look.

Andromeda laughed mockingly. "Heard that then, didja?"

A sudden, hard knock at the door resounded through the room, cutting through the tension. For a moment there was utter silence except for noises of panic as Andromeda hurriedly hitched her dress up over her chest, still struggling.

"Yes?" Druella demanded at the dark wood. Bellatrix glanced over her shoulder to see the intruder.

The handle twisted and the door opened, creaking on its old hinges. The head of Rabastan poked through the doorway, though it took Bellatrix a moment to recognise him. He was surprisingly well-groomed, clean-shaven and with his usually lank, greasy hair straight and held back in a small pony-tail.

He smiled broadly, pushing the door all the way open. The change was just as dramatic below the neck, for his black dress robes were perfectly straight and formal, a dark rose in his lapel.

"Y'alright, Ms. Black?" he asked Druella, saluting, "Oi, lookin' good Cissa, Dromeda. Lovin' those puffy sleeves."

Narcissa threw him a strained smile, leaning down to pick up her cat as he attempted to amble quietly past to the door and subsequent freedom. Andromeda just continued scowling.

"Can I help you, Rabastan?" Druella sighed impatiently.

The man's attention returned to the mother, and he nodded. "Just wonderin' when Bella's gonna be ready. We're all set downstairs."

_Oh, please, Merlin. No no no._

"Inform everyone the bride is on her way," Druella confirmed, "Tell Alphard to start playing the piano."

Again, Rabastan nodded, saluted and pulled the door shut as he left.

"Your father will be waiting," Druella murmured to Bellatrix, "We'd better get you finished."

Bellatrix silently swallowed, and stayed still while her mother placed the tiara of pearls within the neat curls which had been crafted with the help of the Hair Potion. A veil followed, falling over her face and shrouding her condemned countenance. She held her bouquet loosely in her hands, refusing to look in the mirrors.

"Lookin' good, Bells," Andromeda piped up, fluffing up her chocolate-brown brown hair. She gave her sister a thumbs up.

"Yes," Narcissa granted with a small smile, "You look lovely." Quietly, as though in agreement, the wardrobe grumbled and coughed.

Bellatrix nodded solemnly.

"Right, come on," Druella proclaimed. "Your public is waiting, Bellatrix."

Again, Bellatrix nodded. She felt cold, with a dull pain at the back of her throat which she usually felt when she was about to be very sick. She was glad that her dress fell loosely about her knees, for there was a definite tremble in them which she wanted no one else to see. Every fibre in her body told her to throw her bouquet down and run; instead, she carefully stepped out of the room, being cautious not to trip over her heeled shoes, flanked on either side by her sisters, mother and a cat.

True to his wife's word, Cygnus was waiting at the end of the landing, idly blowing plumes of smoke into the air. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps coming closer, looked away in order to try and hide his pipe, but had to twist his head back around for another look. His jaw slacked in shock, his pipe luckily falling into his hand.

"Bellatrix," he uttered gruffly, pulling his spectacles down his nose to better survey her. Distractedly, he stowed his pipe in the pocket of his dress robes and smoothed a crease from them. He stroked his beard absently. "You look… Yes, well." He straightened up, offering her his arm. "Come."

Silently, Bellatrix placed her hand upon her father's arm. She allowed the rest of her family to pass and descend the stairs first, according to the traditional order up the makeshift aisle. Helios rubbed his head against her ankles through her dress as he passed.

Feeling as though she was in a dream, and hoping against hope that she was, Bellatrix allowed herself to be led by her father down the stairs and through the living room of the Lestrange household, towards the conservatory which would take them outside and to the man who was about to become her husband. She could hear the soft notes of a piano playing a slow, but florid and intricate, wedding march from her uncle's talented fingers. The dull, monotonous whispers of the guests, and the rustling of their clothes as they turned in their chairs to try and see the bride first, seemed to deafen Bellatrix. They clouded her ears and confused her mind. She wanted to lie down, and to sleep. She stared down at the floor.

Under the crimson marquee in the back garden was a number of chairs on which the guests were sitting, and down the middle a soft red carpet which formed a makeshift aisle. The altar was comprised of a small wooden pedestal at the end of the carpet, upon which an elderly man stood with his wand in hand, leaning on a cane and, shifting restlessly, the man Bellatrix was soon to marry.

_Oh, dear Merlin._

As she and her father stepped out of the conservatory, the congregation fell silent. Then, collectively, a long sigh escaped the lips of all the females.

"Oh, isn't she _beautiful_?" an alien voice whispered somewhere on Bellatrix's left as she stepped down the makeshift aisle.

"That _dress_," hissed a woman on her right.

"Coulda done more with 'er 'air, though," Walburga scoffed near the front, loud enough to carry.

Bellatrix felt like she had been thrown into a pit of vipers, hissing in one venomous crescendo and striking her with each of their words. She felt numb, and leant heavily on her father. She knew her walking was too stiff to be elegant, her face too set for anyone to pretend that a woman in excited anticipation was under the veil, but she couldn't help it. She would rather have been anywhere but there.

Near the end of her all-too-short walk, Bellatrix glanced up. She saw the old man, the cane, the smiling faces around her, but in front of her eyes an image flashed which seemed so very real, so very vivid that she nearly froze before she could reach the end. The pedestal was a chopping block, soaked in the blood of its earlier victims; the old man was shadowed in an executioner's shroud, and the cane was an axe, sharpened to perfection; the guests were onlookers, hungry for her blood; and the man – the man there, beside the executioner! – was the one who had condemned her to death. It was so strangely realistic that, for one chilling moment, she was so sure it was true. Then came the real scene – or what she desperately hoped was real.

Her father patted her hand and removed it from his arm, holding her wrist delicately. He guided her to entwine fingers with the man already on the pedestal, the familiar fingers of her very soon-to-be husband, and gave her a little nudge in order to step her up onto the wooden platform.

Bellatrix was vaguely aware of her father leaving her there. She barely acknowledged the presence of her sisters, nor even the elderly man who had already begun the marriage rights in his creaky, surprisingly high-pitched voice, and completely ignored the forms of Lucius and Rabastan behind Rodolphus. Nothing existed, except words which filtered around the silent congregation, and the fingers which held hers.

"You look great, Bella," Rodolphus murmured in an undertone to her, to escape interrupting the speech, "A million galleons."

"You don't look too bad yourself," Bellatrix replied, glancing at his silken black dress robes and his smooth hair, a lot straighter and glossier than usual. She noticed only after she'd spoken that her voice was in strained tones. She felt as though she was choking on the words.

He smiled and squeezed her fingers, but she couldn't look at him. She stared at the wall of the marquee just to the side of his head.

The speech of the elderly issuer seemed to drone on forever. Bellatrix felt like she was in a History of Magic lesson. Eventually, however, came the words she was so dreading to hear, and wished that it _could_ have lasted forever:

"Rodolphus Erphemius Lestrange, will you take Bellatrix Black to be your wife in the eyes of Merlin, the Ministry of Magic and all here present?"

Bellatrix shut her eyes, as though she had just taken a punch in the stomach.

"I will," Rodolphus declared, with perhaps a little more volume than needed.

"Bellatrix Deneb Black, will you take…"

Bellatrix stopped listening. Absently, she felt her gaze wander away from the marquee wall, away from the elderly man, and her attention anchored on the back of the congregation. She felt as if someone was watching her, intensely, and not like the watery eyes of adoration, the polite glances of mild interest or faraway stares of boredom. It was as though a pair of eyes, somewhere, were staring straight into her very soul.

Her eyes travelled over every face in the back row of seats, in between every ostentatious hat and fluttering fan, and she saw nothing unusual. She turned her head to give up and look back to Rodolphus, considering it paranoia, when- there!

A figure was standing away from everyone else, behind the back row; a man, so pale she could barely see him against the white chairs, brown hair combed neatly to his head and eyes so dark, so severe that she could feel their stare digging into her flesh even from so far away, and-!

Her head flicked back within the space of milliseconds, looking for confirmation that she was right, and he was there. But there was no one in the space where she was so sure he had been. Only a large shrub which had been covered in white confetti and little faeries.

_I'm sure I saw someone… It can't have been that…_

To her left, a very creaky cough rang in her ears. Bellatrix whipped her head back around to look at the elderly man, who was watching her with expectant eyes, his white, wispy eyebrows high on his forehead in impatience. Once more, he cleared his throat.

"I will," mumbled Bellatrix hurriedly.

"Excuse me?" the old man grumbled.

Bellatrix nearly growled. "I will," she repeated, louder.

"Then I now pronounce you man and wife." Quivering on his cane, the man raised his wand in the air and shot silver stars from the tip, which boomed and fell about her and Rodolphus. "You may now kiss your bride."

Rodolphus, having clearly been looking forward to this moment, smiled toothily and raised Bellatrix's veil as quickly as he could. He threw it over her head, allowing it to fall with her hair, and leant in.

"Get in there, mate!" shouted someone in the crowd, causing a chorus of giggles and guffaws.

Bellatrix felt a ripple of anger course up her spine, of proportions she didn't think she had ever felt before. She wanted to grip her husband's skin with her nails and drag her hands upwards. For one moment, she wanted to _hurt _him.

Then, he was kissing her, and it was lost. He cupped her cheek, and she could feel his smirk against her lips. She kept her eyes open, and didn't move her mouth, but suddenly felt as though some sort of weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She felt almost content.

The crowd erupted into cheering and clapping, with wolf-whistling which was no doubt from Sirius. Rabastan thumped his little brother on the shoulder. No one noticed Bellatrix's eyes flicking towards an insignificant little shrub at the back of the garden, looking for a figure she didn't know if she had seen at all.

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><p>"<em>I think you're forgetting, Rodolphus, I was there for all of this," Lucius sighed, stifling a yawn and absently swilling the firewhiskey in its glass, "Right now you're telling me everything I know about you and Bella."<em>

"_Well, you wanted to hear everything from the start," Rodolphus protested indignantly. He shrugged. "Besides, I know what your memory's like."_

_Lucius' brow furrowed. "What is that supposed to mean, pray tell?"_

"_That's it's terrible, Luci."_

"_It is not."_

"_When's yours and Cissa's wedding anniversary?"_

_Lucius smirked. "July 1__st__."_

"_Huh. I'm impressed. Though you only know 'cause she drilled it into you when you forgot your first anniversary, amiright?"_

_Lucius studied Rodolphus carefully. "In a…manner of speaking," he admitted quietly, trying to mask it by taking a long gulp of alcohol._

"_Exactly. You're crap, mate."_

_Lucius scowled, draining the last of his firewhiskey. "Why, thank you, my old friend." He sighed in exasperation, refilling his glass and flicking his head up towards Rodolphus. "I just mean I remember your wedding. Quite well, in fact."_

"_Well yeah, o'course. Who could forget it? It was a disaster by the end of the night."_

"_Ah, yes," Lucius nodded, fondly, "Walburga getting drunk on sherry and hexing your mother by accident."_

"_Oh, come on, Luci, that was no accident. The woman's insane. She just wanted mum's vintage tea cosy and she wouldn't give it to the mad old bat."_

"_And then Alphard choking on a hors d'oeuvres-"_

"_On a what now?"_

"_Those little appetisers Rabastan was being forced to give out before the main meal."_

"_Oh, yeah, that. Needed Druella's mum to poke her wand down his throat and dislodge it, yeah?"_

"_That's the one. And then your house-elf falling asleep while it was told to watch the pork for the dinner."_

"_He's narcoleptic, what d'you expect?"_

"_There wasn't even enough for _it _to eat by the time it woke up. The meat was just a bit of shrivel. Then Walburga suggested that we cook the elf. That, or Helios." Smirking softly at the memory, Lucius once again raised his glass to his lips. "I do hope you punished it for that."_

"_Well, yes. Dad beat him within an inch of his life."_

"_I'll bet you gave it some wedding cake, though."_

"_Well, yeah, o'course! Everyone should get wedding cake!"_

_Lucius rolled his eyes. "Wait, I don't think I ever did," he added as an afterthought._

_Rodolphus looked instantly confused. "Really? But we cut the cake and dished it out after dinner."_

"_What was it?"_

"_Pumpkin and chocolate. And then there were little cakes with Bertie Botts in which mum baked. Though, then again… didn't you disappear by the end of the night?"_

_Lucius' brow furrowed, clearly thinking hard. Then his expression cleared. "Ah, yes. I think I did." To his friend's blank expression, he added, "Did you ever notice that Narcissa did too?"_

_There was a pause. "Oh, Merlin!" Rodolphus exclaimed, "What happ-… Just, what?"_

"_Well. She'd had a lot of champagne."_

_Rodolphus laughed. "Oh, no, tell me you didn- I mean, you were- what? When, where?"_

"_Oh, Rodolphus, you should know a gentleman never kisses and tells."_

"_Bollocks! You've been telling me all the girls you've banged since fourth ye-"_

"_Must you be so vulgar in my house?" Lucius cut in, though he was still smirking._

_Rodolphus sighed in mock annoyance. "I hope you cleaned up after yourself."_

"_Well, yes. After all, you've never found out until now, have you?"_

_Roodolphus considered this. "Touché," he decided._

"_Good. Now, back to matters at hand. I presume we are now entering territory which I am not so knowledgeable about."_

"_Indeed, Luci, indeed," Rodolphus nodded. His jovial tone at the reminiscence left him, and he sounded somewhat more solemn. "Are y'sure you want me to carry on? I feel kinda bad for talking at you so much."_

"_Not at all. Please, continue."_

_Rodolphus slowly nodded and stroked the sleeping form of Helios, still on his lap, behind the ear. "Alright. …Okay. Where was I?"_

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading thus far. c:<strong>


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